


The Conversation

by nel_gal



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Leedus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nel_gal/pseuds/nel_gal
Summary: Norman is annoyed with Andy and they talk about it





	

**Author's Note:**

> This complete fabrication of my mind was inspired by two things. Firstly, the photo of them holding hands at the Season 7 premiere, and secondly, the video of their panel at WS Atlanta a week or so later.
> 
> I feel really nervous writing about real people, and want to be clear that I have the utmost respect for them, and I hope this is in no way offensive to anyone.

Norman was pissed off, and Andy knew it.

Andy also knew that no one else knew. And 'no one else' included the thousands of people here today at Walker Stalker Atlanta. Actually, it would be more than just 'thousands' within days, because soon their panel would be all over the damn internet. And he was the only person in the whole world who would know how pissed Norman really was as he covered it up in classic-Reedus joking, flirting and overall crowd-pleasing, which was also, honest to goodness easily one of the most genuine things Andy had ever witnessed, because Norman really, really loved the fans as much as they loved him. More, probably.

Yes, forget #Nominate Andrew Lincoln, or whatever the hell it was Greg had shown him the other day. It was Norman Reedus who deserved an Emmy for playing Norman-Reedus-I'm-not-completely-and-totally-pissed-off-with-Andrew-Lincoln-right-now, Andy thought as they all finished up the group photo-shoot, and the photographer instructed him, Norman and Jeffrey to get together for one last pose. Norman made eye contact and shot him a killer smile, that somehow was like every other killer Reedus smile, but at the same time also said _what the hell are you playing at, Lincoln?_ and promised a confrontation at some point, when 'no one else' was around to see it.

The photo shoot was the end to an insanely busy but incredibly fun, day, from which everyone was pumped and buzzing with excitement. The girls, especially Christian and Sonequa, but even Lauren and Danai were particularly giggly, as they were prone to be when they all got together at these events. Mind you, it wasn't only the girls, Mike, Norman and Josh usually managed to talk up a storm amongst themselves.

He wondered, as he drifted along and tried to keep up with what Steve was saying, why he always felt so reserved compared to this group of people. He generally put it down to the English thing. The only time he felt truly comfortable here, was when he was at Norman's side.

But Norman was currently bringing up the back of the group as they headed towards the Hotel lifts, deep in conversation with Melissa, and Andy wondered if she might have cottoned on to his less-than-chirpy mood. If anyone else would pick it up, she would. She was every bit as intuitive as her alter-ego, when it came to Norman.

Andy should have been exhausted. He'd hardly slept all night, and had been up since an ungodly hour this morning, and it had been non-stop for the past ten hours, but he wasn't tired. He also should have felt bad about pissing Norman off, and he did. Actually, part of him was very concerned, because he hated feeling so out of sync with his friend, but a part of him was also looking forward to the conversation they would need to have.

Steve was now talking about his plans for his next holiday, and the girls were starting to discuss what to wear for dinner tonight. He saw Norman give Melissa a hug, and then whip out his phone for a quick selfie of the two of them that he would no doubt Instagram later.

Andy caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, and that was all it took for the two of them to hang back and let everyone else take the first lift. When it departed, he motioned with his hand. "Do you have your key?"

Norman deftly removed his key from his jeans pocket and handed it over.

"Which floor are you on?" He was trying for casual, but forgot-to-forget-to enunciate, and his damn British accent made it sound like he was interviewing the other man for a job.

"Eighteen." Came the curt reply.

Andrew knew Norman was upset, but he still couldn't get a handle on just _how_ upset.

The next lift arrived and they stepped in together.

Norman frowned at him as the doors closed. "What the hell is going on, dude?" The calmly spoken words were the first he had directed to him since their panel earlier. Norman had stalked away as soon as he was off stage and Andy hadn't seen him again until the photo-shoot where they were surrounded by their colleagues, photographers and publicists.

Andy allowed himself an indulgent stare into his friends face, and wondered not for the first time what it would have been like to have met twenty-something Norman. Based on the stories he had heard - most from the man himself, Andy imagined young Reedus a tightly wound ball of dangerous, nervous energy with no filter and little regard for consequences. As opposed to the confident, playful and chilled out, almost Zen-like demeanour he had acquired later in life.

Still, he knew the man had the potential to be every bit as menacing as an enraged Daryl Dixon. Frankly, Daryl only come across that way because Norman had it in him, although it was something Andy had rarely witnessed. And the way he carried himself now, despite obviously being so upset showed just how contained the man could be.

Andrew swiped the key at the sensor and pressed the button for the eighteenth floor.

"I'm sorry Norman, I didn't mean to upset you."

Norman stared at him. His shaggy hair was pushed away from his forehead so Rick could see his striking blue eyes, behind which it seemed swam a different emotion for each shade of blue. Confusion, anger, hurt and sadness.

"I knew straight after that I'd gone too far. I could tell you weren't ok and I wished I could take it back. I'm a complete arse and I've wanted to apologise to you since, but this is the first moment I've had."

Norman narrowed his eyes.

"No one else could tell. You were the utmost professional, as usual." It was true. Norman could do no wrong when it came to his public life. He came across as either cute, honest, cool, funny or all of those things. And he could take any situation and make it work. Probably because he wasn't actually trying for any effect, he was just being himself.

Andy knew that he on the other hand, despite often being told he possessed a natural grace and athleticism and that he looked coordinated and collected on screen, generally came across clumsy and awkward, in interviews. Probably due to how incredibly uncomfortable he felt in those situations. He was ok with it, and still tended towards blaming his English-ness, which was probably completely unfair to his country-men, but it made him feel a bit better at least. The best he could usually hope for was to not-offend anyone. But he had this time. And not just 'anyone'.

"Ironic how the best acting I've ever done has been off-camera." Norman ground out.

"I know. Me too."

"Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He was starting to lose the Zen now and was a few conjunctions away from channelling his Dixon. He took a few steps into Andy's space before backing away and gesturing wildly."Jeez, last week you're holding my hand on the red carpet, in front of the whole fucking world. And I was cool with it. But today, all morning, touching and flirting with me. Tickling me, telling me I smell good. In front of everyone." He huffed. "You've spent the past five years telling me to stop doing that to you, or otherwise just laughing it off as a joke. But now, for some reason it's ok for you."

The lift dinged and Norman stopped pacing the small box. He looked like a cat, ready to spring to freedom the second the doors opened, except he made no move to actually exit the lift, so Andy, still with the key, walked out and slowly Norman followed.

"Which room?"

"Fucked if I know." It was almost Daryl talking, and they both chuckled, and it was normal for a few seconds. It was an ongoing joke with all of them because they travelled so much. If they remembered which city they were in, it was considered doing well, let alone which hotel, and floors and room numbers were near impossible. Norman who travelled more than anyone usually found himself back at reception asking for his room number. "Ahhh, Eighteen-Ten. Room Ten." He decided with a nod, and again let Andy lead.

Andy opened the door and inserted the key into the holder and walked into Norman's room as the lights flickered on. He strode over to the window and opened the blinds, to look down at the street below.

Norman lay down on the bed. Andy couldn't see him but knew he would be laying flat on his back, with an arm resting across his eyes.

"I mean it, you know. My best acting has been off-set too." Andrew said quietly, still facing the window. "Before Gael went home yesterday she told me to sort out my feelings for you, and that she would respect whatever I did." He took a deep breath and continued.

"I've been coping ok with it. You know, seeing you for half the year, hanging out with you, joking around, sitting close to you. I thought it was enough. Then I go back home, try to fall back into my life there, try not to think about you. Not that you make it easy with the number of text messages and phone calls." He gave an ironic chuckle.

"And you're always you. I mean, I come back here and you're always the same. And we make it work. I make it work, and it should be such an easy balance because I'm basically the luckiest man alive. My wife, my kids are amazing. My job, well I don't exactly have to explain that. And then there's you. This most incredible person, who I get to work with, and call my best friend when most of the time I don't even know why you would bother with me." He paused. "I have everything and more. More than I could ever have hoped for. But still somehow it's not enough." Another pause.

"And seeing you so worried these past few weeks. Knowing how you're feeling about the fans, about their reaction to the premiere. It's been tearing me up inside. You are so incredibly devoted to them, and to see some of the crazy stuff that's been coming out. I mean, it's such an infinitesimally small number of negative reactions, but I know, I can see how it's affected you, and I can't stand it. I just..." Andy finally turned around and stopped talking to the window. "I just love you, man." A longer pause. "I just. Love you." He raised his eyes to look at Norman properly as he said the last words. Norman, who had taken his arm away from his eyes and was now sitting up with his back propped against pillows, looking over at Andy, expressionless and silent.

When the silence dragged on, Andy got nervous.

"I've said the wrong thing again, haven't I? Maybe I should go?" He made to walk towards the door.

"What the _ACTUAL_ fuck? _I love you. I'm going now?_ " Norman blinked his annoyance at the other man, who stopped moving away, and returned to the window.

"You know I'm useless without a script and stage direction." Andy said sheepishly, and looked down at his hands.

Norman shook his head slowly as he stood up and walked over to his friend. " Yeah I would have expected better improv from a classically trained theatrical actor." He smiled. "But that was before I met you."

Andy rolled his eyes, as Norman reached out and placed his hands on his upper arms.

"You know I couldn't stay angry with you for long. You didn't have to say all that."

"I know, but I feel like it's gotten to a point where I can't not-say it anymore."

"I already know how you feel anyway." Norman said, squeezing Andy's biceps before letting go. "Maybe _I'm_ the arse for making you come out and say it."

"Definitely." Andy agreed. "This whole thing is essentially your fault."

"Careful Clutterbuck, you're not off the hook yet."

Andy smiled. Everything Norman said made him smile. "So what do we do now?"

"Fucked if I know." Norman said, completely in Daryl's voice this time. Except they didn't laugh this time.

Norman sat back down on the edge of the bed and Andy turned again to face the window.

They were both lost in thought for a few minutes. Andy was looking into the distance, pinching the bridge of his nose, a Rick Grimes mannerism he had consciously incorporated into his normal life.

Norman sat leaning forward with a hand on each knee and his head cocked to the side. Eventually he broke the silence. "So, basically, nothing has changed, right?"

Andy turned around and looked questioningly at him.

"I mean, you've told me how you feel, but it's nothing I didn't know anyway. And you've known for a while now how I feel, and that hasn't changed."

Andy nodded.

"So basically, nothing has changed, so nothing needs to change?"

Andy raised his eye-brows questioningly.

"I just mean, it's not like we need to do anything different right now, is it? I'm not pissed at you anymore, so we can go back to being the same as we were yesterday."

Andy nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose so."

"With one proviso." Norman added.

"Yes?"

"I get to behave exactly as _I_ like. If I want to flirt with you or touch you, within reason, I will. In private and in public, and you won't be able to say anything about it." He finished triumphantly.

Andy had been holding his breath, but he released it in relief and laughed. "That's it. I tell you I love you and all you want is to continue to be friends who mutually flirt? I have to say, it's a bit of an anti-climax."

Norman stare was piercing. "No, it's not exactly all I want. But I mean that's all we have to do for now, or for as long as we need to, until something changes, or needs to change. It's enough for me for now. It has been for a long time."

"What if it's not enough for me?"

A pause. "It is. I know you. I know how you feel about your family, your life, and it is." He said decisively.

Andy nodded slowly. "Sooo the plan is not to have a plan."

"Works for everything else in _my_ life."

"Ok, right. So that's that, then."

Norman nodded.

"Right. Ok." Andy said, warming like most men would to the idea of not actually having to do, or change, anything.

Norman looked at his watch and jumped up. His short attention span made it easy for him to move from one topic to the next. "Hey, so did they tell you? Where's this dinner thing on at?" He removed his shirt and started sorting through his bag for something else to wear.

"Fucked if I know." Andy said, in his most clipped British accent, and Norman laughed his full belly-laugh that was absolutely contagious and caused Andy to join in too.

And they were back to normal.


End file.
